


If You Need Forgiveness

by she_who_the_river_could_not_hold



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: (only briefly mentioned though), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Mild Angst, artist!Clarke, professor!bellamy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 04:17:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15622365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/she_who_the_river_could_not_hold/pseuds/she_who_the_river_could_not_hold
Summary: Clarke Griffin, painter turned environmental-activist, is pretty sure she’s got everything she needs. A small studio to work in, successful work, and Madi to help her out. But it turns out there’s still something missing in her, something that can only be fixed when Bellamy Blake arrives one day unannounced at her studio.orBellamy and Clarke are incapable of not forgiving each other no matter what planet or universe they’re in.





	If You Need Forgiveness

**Author's Note:**

> I was positively WRECKED after that finale last night. Wow. And then the second my alarm went off this morning the beginnings of this fic came to mind and I've been slowly working on it all day. Now that the season is over I'm excited to explore writing them more!  
> That said this chapter is inspired by season finale. While there's not entirely spoilers in here, it does play off their interactions with each other in canon. If you haven't seen it yet, watch it just in case before you read this! Or don't, I don't think it's spoilery, but I heavily drew from the finale so I wanted to put a warning just in case! Enjoy and thanks for reading!!

The bell to the front door of the studio clanged softly as someone opened it.

 

Clarke could hear Madi’s voice, just muffled enough to hide her words. Good, she didn’t have to rush out there, it sounded like she had it taken care of. She hummed along to the soft rock song playing from her tiny radio as she looked at the piece in front of her.

 

It was a larger canvas than normal, as requested by the donors. A splatter of yellow paint was just beginning to dry on her hand, mirroring the smattering of yellow highlights that shone down on the leaves in the painting. It was based off of her most recent trip to Costa Rica and she still felt like she could feel the warmth on her skin and the blanket of humidity cloaking her as she had walked around, camera at the ready.

 

She was ahead of schedule on this painting  _thank god_. Commissioned paintings always tended to have bigger donations attached to them and she was glad she’d have the extra time to perfect the details.

 

Her journey to environmentally-focused landscape paintings had been an odd one. It had started on her Red Cross trip so many years ago now. A young, naive girl taking pictures as a way to relax while she dove headfirst into… well it had been escape at first, but then an adventure. She had found herself enjoying moments of solitude when she could, still adjusting to living with the other volunteers and had turned to the nature around her for comfort. Her self-imposed exile after college hadn’t lasted too long in the end. But she had made amazing friends and felt more connected to people and the world around her, more than ever before. 

 

And then those photos had turned to reference images. And then her friend Lincoln convinced her to sell the paintings as a way of raising money for organizations that helped those regions — giving Clarke a purpose for the first time in a long time since dropping out of med school. 

 

It turned out she was pretty damn good at it too. 

 

“Clarke, are you back here?” Madi popped her head in, her hair swinging down like a curtain as she peered around the door. She knew that when Clarke was back here she didn’t want to be bothered too much, so the fact that she was checking in meant something was up.

 

“Yep back here! What’s going on?” Clarke placed her paint brush down, narrowly missing knocking over the small plastic cup she’d been rinsing it in.

 

“There’s someone here to see you,” was the vague response she got in return.

 

When it became clear that she wasn’t going to elaborate, Clarke shrugged herself up to a standing position with sigh, shaking her hair out of the butterfly clip that had been holding it back. She hadn’t been expecting anyone but she supposed it could be someone just stopping by, though unplanned visitors were pretty rare.

 

With a quick ruffle of Madi’s hair and a few steps out, Clarke entered the main area to her studio. While it wasn’t the largest one out there, it was perfect for her needs. Cement flooring to mask the scrapes of wheeling in and out large canvases. White walls to create a blank backdrop to hang her paintings. Just spacious enough for her to entertain people when they came for events, but small enough to feel intimate. 

 

A man stood by the front desk, leaning against his forearm as he appeared to look at one of her paintings of a leopard that she had done for a special series she completed the other month. He was broad shouldered and had a faded, black denim jacket on. The longer, black curls kissing the collar of it whispered of recognition but Clarke didn’t pay much attention to them as she approached.

 

“Hey there, Madi said you needed to talk with me. What can I do for you?”

 

When the figure turned around, Clarke felt herself suck in air in a gasp. Her eyes went soft in a melancholic realization.

 

“Bell—“ she stuttered on his name, as if her mouth couldn’t relinquish it quite yet. As if it couldn’t bring her to say it.

 

He stood in front of the front desk, his eyes locked on her. They were more serious than she remembered but there was still that spark of  _him_ , just enough to push her heartbeat into a flurry. 

 

“Hey,” Bellamy said, walking up to where she had frozen in place.

 

Clearing her throat, she did her best to recompose herself.

 

“How did you find my studio?” Clarke gestured around her, confusion lacing her voice as her brows furrowed. 

 

Bellamy’s eyes flickered over her shoulder and she turned just in time to see a flash of brown hair disappearing into the back room. _Ah, Madi. Of course._ It brought a wry smile to her face.

 

“I’m sorry, she’s—”

 

“Assertive like her mom?”

 

Bellamy bit back a grin and Clarke rolled her eyes, but smirked all of the same at his teasing. It wasn’t like he was wrong, that was for sure. 

 

But then the humor was gone as it settled in who was standing in front of her. Bellamy Blake, her once best-friend, _her perpetual what-could-have-been_. The man she had turned her back on when he needed her most. As if he could sense the thoughts flying through her mind, Bellamy’s expression sobered as well and the two of them stood silently staring at each other. 

 

When the intensity of his stare began to feel like too much, Clarke shifted her weight nervously and looked down at her hands. The dried paint was peeling in flakes off of her palms and she could see where blue paint had managed to wedge itself under her fingernails. It was hard to remember a time when they had experienced moments like this. And she hated it. Even when they had first met, they had been a magnet to each other even when they had argued. Never awkward. 

 

It’s that memory and longing for what once was that makes Clarke drag her eyes back up to Bellamy’s face.

 

They both start to say something, but Clarke just barely beats him.

 

“You’ve forgiven me? You’re not mad?”

 

She couldn’t fight the tremble that snuck into her voice. 

 

It was too hard to ask him, to bring herself to ask him the question she hadn’t ever dared to hope that there was an answer for. But the words had bloomed on her tongue and sprouted out before she had a chance to swallow them and now they hung in the air between them. 

 

He paused for a beat, gazing steadily at her.

 

“I told you Clarke, years ago. If you need forgiveness, I’ll give it to you,” he replied simply.

 

She let out a choked laugh at that, feeling a burn in the corners of her eyes as she looked away.

 

“I don’t know if I deserve it to be honest.”

 

“Since when has it been about deserving?” Bellamy countered.

 

A rush of surprise at his tone, Clarke looked back up at him. Bellamy was still looking serious but he had stepped in just enough to feel like she was breathing in him, and only him. 

 

She opened her mouth helplessly a couple times, trying to find the right words to say.

 

“You had to do it for Madi, I understand that better than anyone,” Bellamy reminder her. “She got into the school right? 

 

Clarke nodded.

 

“After the trip, Diyoza put in a good word for me with the principal. And the cut of the profits from the painting, even after the donation had been processed, helped me get her started without having to wait for the scholarships to come and make her start late,” Clarke said softly.

 

She still couldn’t forget the phone call she had received that one morning. The day that she had chosen to pick Madi over Bellamy and her friends. Leaving broken promises and empty wallets, all because she had decided to pick her family over them. 

 

The worst part is she hadn’t been able to figure out if she’d do it any differently. A thought that would wiggle its way into her mind when she’d see her friends on Instagram or she’d lay in bed and think about the old nightly texts she and Bellamy would share until one of them fell asleep. Usually him first, tired from having planned his next lecture for his classes. But he’d put all of his money into their joint-panel and event, only to have her disappear and leave him hanging. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to text him again. And neither had he if the silent phone had told her anything.

 

“Then it worked out,” he supplied when she had stayed silent for a while again.

 

She swallowed the feeling of both relief and the clinging feeling of regret, and nodded. It had worked out.

 

“Well, rejecting the panel,” _a pause as if to say ‘and me’ as well,_ “may have been a pretty shitty move at the time. But it turns out I’m a faster thinker on my feet than I give myself credit. The dean was impressed with how I handled the chaos and actually tasked me with the next event for the philosophy department,” Bellamy explained.

 

Clarke’s eyebrows shot up.

 

“Really? Bellamy that’s amazing.”

 

“Yeah, I’ve got a string of them under my belt now. The numbers are getting pretty big too, we’re going to get to host it in the gym next semester,” Bellamy said with a swell of pride in his voice. “Hence the dean liking how I handled chaos,” he added hastily. As usual, keeping too much of the credit on himself for the success.

 

“Well,” Clarke said slowly, feeling her spirits lifting, “a wise person once asked me what was wrong with a little chaos.”

 

Bellamy ducked his head down, laughing at that. The low rumble of his laughter warmed something deep inside Clarke and she smiled him. Suddenly feeling like it was the first real smile she’d experienced in a while.

 

“What do you say we get some coffee?” He offered, looking back up at her. 

 

_Into the very nature of herself_.

 

Clarke immediately nodded before remembering her voice. “I say yes. I think we definitely should.”

 

“I can close up the studio,” called out Madi’s voice from behind them. She had a tone to her voice that says _she absolutely knew what the hell was going on_. 

 

Clarke makes a mental note to remind her not to eavesdrop, but she couldn’t stop the giddiness flowing through her so instead she turned and nodded at Madi in confirmation.

 

“Let me get my jacket from the back,” she said, turning back to Bellamy.

 

He’d shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and his entire stature has relaxed. His easy-going smile matched her own and they were suddenly in college again, bonding on the porch of Raven’s house with drinks in hand and watching shooting stars. 

 

But it feels more complete now. Like they’re grown into themselves enough that the nostalgia is mixed with the sensation of getting to know each other all over again.

 

She quickly hurried back into the backroom, grabbing her jacket from her stool she sat on for painting. Madi sat perched on the second stool, her thumbs flying across her cell phone while she sported a mischievous grin. 

 

“We’re having a conversation when I get home tonight,” whispered Clarke, doing her best to look stern but knowing that she was failing completely.

 

Madi gave her a toothy, wide grin before returning to her phone.

 

_Kids_. 

 

Clarke hurried back out and felt a sense of relief when she saw that Bellamy was still there. Not that she thought he would have ditched her, but she was still working on grasping that she wasn’t imagining things. That he was really there with her.

 

The soft look he gave her when she walked in made her stomach flutter.

 

She couldn’t fully grasp that either.

 

“There’s a great local place around the corner, does that work for you?”

 

“Wherever you want Princess, this is your turf.” His smile was at full force now.

 

He had a point, and the nickname made her grin at the memories attached to it. And so with her favorite coffeeshop in mind, a small little one called Eden, she lead the way for them as they made their way out.

 

“I guess we haven’t talked in a while,” Clarke mentioned off-the-cuff, swinging her purse over her shoulder. She had to look up at him when they talked and it was dizzying. She didn’t remember him always being so tall, but maybe it was the confidence he seemed to be carrying with him now.

 

“That’s true, we haven’t. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do,” he said with a smile as he held the door open for her.

 

A blast of warm air hit them, the late summer evening bringing a soft light to the front of the studio. With dusk brought a quiet peacefulness to the neighborhood where she had set up shop, and with it Clarke felt it mirrored within herself. She and Bellamy fell into tandem as they began to walk, tentatively beginning to bring conversation points that they’d subconsciously been holding onto until they saw each other again.

 

They certainly did have a lot to talk about it, but they’d work through it together.


End file.
